


Moonlight

by clavicular



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love's not like this, Cameron thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairy_tale_echo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy_tale_echo/gifts).



Cameron knows that Ferris knows. Of course Ferris does, because Ferris is the one who can bluff his way out of things, not Cameron. Ferris is the one with the grand ideas and the ability to realign the world. Cameron’s just the one who gets dragged along for the ride.

Ferris knows, but they don’t talk about it. That’s fine by Cameron, who would have no idea what to say. He thinks Ferris wouldn’t know what to say either, and that scares him a little. This thing, it’s not… it’s not a big deal, really. He doesn’t think about it that much, it’s just _there_ sometimes. When Ferris is telling him about his next mad scheme, or dragging him out of bed at 7 o’clock on a Sunday, or throwing paper planes at him from the other side of the classroom without getting caught, and Cameron just looks at him and thinks, _huh._ This is nothing like he was taught to expect.

Love’s not like this, Cameron thinks. Love is whispers and starlight, useless declarations of eternity. Love is fetching the moon for someone on a whim. Cameron won’t even fetch Ferris a salt shaker without half an hour of wheedling – not when Ferris always asks with that glint in his eyes. Ferris gets away with too much, so Cameron makes sure he doesn’t get away with it easily. Ferris can fetch his own bloody moons. But Ferris never really asks Cameron to do things for him, only with him. And maybe love’s not like this, but Cameron gives in every time.

He never does it because Ferris wants him to. He tried that once. _“It’ll be fun,” Ferris said. “You’ll love it!”_ Cameron could think of nothing less fun than curling up at the bottom a basket and trying to pretend he wasn’t a few thousand feet in the air, but Ferris was set on the idea. _“Okay, fine,” Cameron said. “We’ll hire a hot air balloon. Sounds great.”_ He can act when he has to, when Ferris asks him to, and he put as much sincerity into that as he could. Ferris looked at him, eyes widening in surprise, and shook his head. _“You really don’t want to.”_ Like he’d only just realized. And that was it; he didn’t bring it up again.

Cameron never gives in because Ferris wants him to. Ferris knows him too well. He’d never get away with it. No, Cameron gives in because _he_ wants to. Ferris takes him speeding through the city in a priceless red Ferrari, and all Cameron has to do is close his eyes.

He doesn’t hate Sloane. He couldn’t, they have too much in common. More, perhaps, than either of them have with Ferris. They both have to live with doubt, they worry about the future and making mistakes, they want things they can’t have. They can’t realign the world. Sloane’s better at it than he is, and Cameron envies her that. He can’t envy her for anything else; the ways they want Ferris are too different, even if sometimes they’re all too similar.

Cameron still wants to strangle Ferris sometimes. When he’s being particularly obnoxious, or when he refuses to listen to Cameron about all the ways something’s going to go horribly wrong, or... practically always, really.  If Cameron is honest with himself, he never _stops_ wanting to strangle Ferris. The thing is, it’s stupid, but he doesn’t really care.

He wishes the violent urges could be further proof that he doesn’t, that this isn’t… and it _isn’t,_ or if it is, it isn’t _important_. But anger and frustration aren’t proof of that. He used to think so. He had two labeled columns in his head, and one was called “but most of the time I want to _kill him._ ” He filled it with ways Ferris infuriated him; it was a very long list. He doesn’t label those columns any more - sometimes he can’t even tell the difference between them.

He now believes any feeling at all can be enough, can mean more than it seems. He’s believed that since the day his father came home to find the car in pieces. Cameron doesn’t think about it often. He doesn’t need to - he’ll never forget the way his father looked, staring down at the broken wreck. That look was the closest thing to love Cameron had ever seen in him. His father bent down, wrapping his fingers around the odometer. It was mostly in one piece for all that it was sitting on the back seat. He’d lifted it from the wreck, just staring at it. Then he threw it on the ground and crushed it under his boot. He walked past Cameron without a word.

Later that night had been the screams and slammed doors, words that neither of them could take back, but all Cameron remembered was that one moment. The way his father lashed out against the car. The way he wouldn’t even look at Cameron. Cameron lets himself feel everything, now, because he thinks maybe all of it’s important.

He lets himself feel this… whatever he feels for Ferris. He’s never been able to do otherwise, anyway. It doesn’t matter that Ferris knows. It doesn’t matter that they won’t talk about it. Cameron knows Ferris can’t deal with it, but Ferris’ power to realign the world is useless here. He doesn’t mean to hurt Cameron with it. But Ferris can’t deal with this, so he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. Cameron just keeps letting himself feel it, and it doesn’t matter, it’s okay. Cameron _can_ deal with this, and he does.

And love shouldn’t be like this. Love shouldn't be someone dragging you out of bed and into constant peril. Love shouldn't be wanting to strangle someone, he thinks. It shouldn't be this absurd.

He's not really sure what it _should_ be, anymore. Knowing someone inside out, perhaps. Being able to laugh together. Knowing they’ll always be there for you. Cameron thinks about this. He thinks about it, and then he thinks, _maybe three out of three's not so bad._ Cameron won't ever fetch the moon for Ferris. He wouldn't even try. But he thinks Ferris might do it for him, if he asked.

Love should be about happily-ever-afters. But this might be close enough.


End file.
